


A Visitor Arrives

by sgtlavandula



Series: The Song of Kings [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: F/M, Gen, not my universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 19:58:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgtlavandula/pseuds/sgtlavandula
Summary: In a village unused to foreigners, Malina has a guest over. She may not be the best with people, but a foreign cleric with the best of intentions seems nice enough.





	A Visitor Arrives

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is an original work set in my friend's (ax100) fictional universe/eventual D&D setting, the Song of Kings. To borrow from her words, in this universe "the gods fought a war against an evil entity with the help of a brave band of humans. When all was said and done and the dust had finally settled, the gods gifted these humans with Crowns, powerful artifacts that gave them the divine right to rule over their fellowmen and keep the world in check. They also blessed these humans and their bloodlines, to forever be the rightful heirs and bearers of the Crowns. Centuries later, the world has fallen into chaos; the evil entity has been reborn, and the gods are nowhere to be found. It is up to the monarchs to take up the mantle once again and defend their lands and their people from the destruction that threatens their very existence."
> 
> Malina is my player character in this campaign, and Cárthach is an NPC I built for her backstory. As a quick worldbuilding note, the countries in this universe borrow from real-world cultures and mythologies; the northern lands are based on Scandinavian and Slavic mythology (Malina's home region in particular worships, and is named for, the goddess Mokosh), and Cárthach's homeland has Celtic influences. So if you see any familiar-looking deity names, that is why.

Dusk was falling on the village. Inside the cottage, the light grew dim, so Malina put on the oil lamps and hung them on the walls. Her father was in his room at the back, taking his usual pre-supper nap. She worked in the kitchen while he slept, tending to the fireplace and chopping up a mix of vegetables and meat for the stew pot. Normally they would just consume the leftover vegetables, but there would be a guest over, so a little fresh meat from the market was needed.

It was a moment of quiet. Malina did not mind having to prepare supper on her own, as it gave her time to gather her thoughts and be herself. She had plenty to think on today as she threw all the chopped vegetables into the stew pot. All day, out in the fields and in the temple with the other clerics, everyone had talked of the newcomer, the visiting cleric from Fréimhe who had arrived about a week ago. Malina herself did not know what to make of him; she had only met him once, briefly, when he had called upon the clerics at the temple on his first day. He seemed nice enough then, though she did not know him well enough to really say. She found no reasons to distrust him, as some of the other villagers did, but she also found his presence odd. Foreigners seemed more likely to stay at the capital than at a village like hers.

Whatever his reasons for coming, she might find out more tonight. She mulled over his visit as she chopped up the last of the meat and added it to the stew pot. The fire was crackling now, so she set the pot over it and washed her hands. Was he a hermit, she wondered, traveling the world and accepting others’ hospitality? Was he a missionary intent on spreading his faith? Her musings were interrupted by the soft clanging of the bell outside their front door. He was early - as if summoned by her thoughts.

She made her way to the small study where the front door was, and opened it. In front of her was a tall young man, standing upright like a soldier at attention. He wore strange-looking robes of deep green, and a medallion of a gnarled silver tree hung over them. His face was ruddy from the walk to her home, and dark, wavy hair hung slightly over his eyes.

“Good afternoon - or rather, good evening,” he said pleasantly. “This is Miss Malina’s home, I hope?”

Malina smiled shyly, and nodded. “Yes - good evening,” she stammered. She paused for a moment, realizing that she had forgotten the visitor’s name. “I’m sorry, I...”

“Oh, of course,” the visitor said, shaking his head slightly. He held out his hand. “We have not been properly introduced. My name is Cárthach, of Fréimhe, a cleric of Dian Cécht.”

“Hello, Cárthach,” Malina said, shaking his hand rather gently. She wondered if she should introduce herself too, since he already knew her name, but said nothing. “Please - come in.”

Inside, a fire in the study kept the cottage warm. The study itself was sparsely furnished. There was a low wooden table in the center, draped with a woven cloth, and flanked by three wooden chairs with plain cushions. The most ornate object in the room was a wooden shelf painted white with green leaf patterns, standing against the back wall. An oil lamp cast a faint light over the whole scene. Cárthach seated himself on one of the wooden chairs; Malina excused herself to tend to the stew and fetch water for the guest.

“I apologize if I am quite early, Miss Malina,” he remarked. “I do understand that you are making supper.”

“It’s all right - I won’t take long.”

Malina ducked into the kitchen, took a wooden spoon from the counter, and started stirring the stew with a hurried motion. She was thinking, fretting. What was she going to do? Cárthach had come early. The stew could cook itself without her supervision, but she needed to take care of her guest. What should she say to him? How should she entertain him? Her father would remain asleep for a little while longer. What should she do in the meantime? She was no expert at talking to people and keeping them company, and now she had a foreign cleric to impress.

Just let him ask you questions, Malina thought, giving the stew pot a final stir before covering it. After all, he claims to be here to learn about Mokosh and its people, and the best way for him to learn is to ask. And she could ask him the most general of questions - what was it like in Fréimhe, what kind of god he served, how he came to Mokosh and her village in particular. She ran over these questions as she fetched a tin jug of water and two cups on a tray. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad having a foreigner around; it made small talk easier.

A few moments later, Malina was at the study again, pouring out cups of water from the tray and sitting down on the wooden chair opposite Cárthach. A faint scent of meat and vegetable broth filled the air. He offered her a polite smile. “How is supper coming?”

“Quite well, thank you.”

“That is good - and how are you today?”

“I am well, and you?”

“I am also doing well, thank you. The walk to your home refreshed me.”

“It is a good walk…” Malina trailed off, wondering what else she should say. The questions she had meant to ask him froze still in her mind, refusing to make their way into speech. Should she really ask them? Were they polite to ask? Cárthach was still looking at her, and she turned away from his gaze. “Today - today is quite cool,” she managed at last, “good for a walk.”

“The weather here is cooler than at home, but still mild and pleasant,” he remarked, taking a sip of water. “I hope my visit did not alarm you too much, Miss Malina. The elder clerics suggested that I come see you, as they felt that we would get along. They speak highly of you, and they think you have much potential.”

“They do?!” Malina blurted out, blushing a little at these words. “I mean - I am glad to hear it.”

“Oh, they certainly do. I think the elders are very glad to have a young person who is as devout as they are. They are resolute in their faith, and they clearly have plenty of skill and practice that they are eager to pass on. But I would also like to hear from you, as a neophyte: your thoughts on your faith, your practices, your village. The elders thought that I could learn something from you as well.”

Cárthach’s eyes twinkled as he said this and set his cup down on the table. He was certainly a passionate young man, brimming with enthusiasm, and some of it seemed to intimidate Malina. She said nothing for a few moments, unsure of how to answer. Sensing this, Cárthach withdrew a little, and leaned back slightly.

“Ah - heavy question, wasn’t it? That was plenty of me to ask, I apologize. Perhaps I could ask you how today went, and what your usual duties were for the day.”

“Oh… well,” Malina stammered, “today went well. In the morning I help on the farm, and in the afternoon I have my lessons with Miss Nadia and the elders.”

“What kind of lessons?”

“Hmm, it depends on the day. Today was a little about the history of the region, the faith. Other days I learn the sacred rituals, a few spells.”

“Miss Nadia explained some of the rituals to me the other day! They are quite different from the ones of Dian Cécht. How do you find them?”

“They are… difficult.”

Cárthach shook his head slightly and chuckled. “They always are at the beginning.”

“Oh, but on the other-” Malina stopped herself before she could continue. Should she mention her extra lessons? They were not strictly part of her cleric training, but Nadia valued them, and so did she. Still, they were not formal, and she doubted that Cárthach would be interested in them. At least, she assumed so.

“On the other hand?” he finished.

“They are… they are not really lessons.”

“Additional work, perhaps? Other forms of worship? Many of the older clerics take part in some sort of industry.”

She nodded. “Miss Nadia recommends it. I enjoy it, too.” A pause. Should she show him? Was her work good enough to show? It would break the awkward tension, at least. “Perhaps… I could show you?”

“Of course!” Cárthach leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Well, I have no idea what you are talking about, but I would be glad to see it.”

Malina excused herself again, and went to the back of the cottage where her room was. Her father snored gently in an adjacent room. At the foot of her bed was a small pile of rolled-up textiles, and she started looking through each one. Which one could she show? Which one would she consider her best work? Finally, she settled on a small tea cloth near the top of the pile. This one is half-decent, she thought.

When she returned downstairs, Cárthach did not notice the rolled-up tea cloth she carried until she handed it to him and sat back down. “I - we - Miss Nadia and I do a little weaving, a little embroidery,” she said, smoothing down her apron with her hands. “We consider it a form of devotion.”

The visitor’s eyes widened as he unfurled the tea cloth. Whether it was a look of awe or horror, Malina could not tell. The tea cloth was embroidered with a simple pattern of red roses and leaves against a black border, but something about the embroidery gave the pattern extra life, as if it really were a bed of roses pushing out from the black earth in the height of springtime. When Cárthach wrinkled the cloth a little, it seemed to him that the rose petals and leaves were swaying slightly in response.

He looked up at Malina, who had been sipping from her cup of water and watching him. “Did you make this?”

She nodded.

“It’s beautiful. You have a gift.”

A smile broke out on her face, and she blushed. “Oh - thank you - it means a lot,” she said. “It’s one of my later works, so I think I’ve gotten better at keeping the stitches straight. I made it late in the spring, seeing all the flowers coming out, and the roses, and I… I wanted to make something from it. So I picked up a needle, and I thought about the roses I had seen, and… and there.”

Cárthach was smiling back at her. This was the first time in their conversation that she had become so animated. “You certainly captured the spring,” he said, wrinkling the cloth again. The roses and leaves again appeared to rustle. “It feels like a true-to-life bed of roses. It’s a wonderful work. And a work of devotion, too! If I were the goddess, I would be all too pleased.”

“Oh, compared to what Miss Nadia could do, this is nothing,” Malina replied, setting down her cup. “To work is to emulate the goddess, she says, and this is my work. I see the goddess everywhere, wherever there is life. In the trees, in the livestock, in my neighbors. And I try - really, I try - to put that life into my work. I’m not always the best, but I think I shall get there.”

“Do you really see the goddess wherever there is life?”

“Yes - at least, I try to sense her presence.”

“Even in a foreigner like myself?”

Malina blushed again. “Well… perhaps, not yet. Eventually, maybe, if I get to know you better.”

“I hope there will be plenty of time for that, Miss Malina.”

Cárthach was looking at her so earnestly, his eyes shining. Malina was still blushing, but she managed a smile. He’s pleasant, if a little forward, she thought. He means no harm.

They were both distracted by the sound of bubbling coming from the kitchen. The scent of meat and vegetable stew was now stronger. “Supper’s ready,” Malina announced. She excused herself yet again, and left to take the pot off the fire.


End file.
